


More Than Biology

by eeyore9990



Series: 30 Thankful Days [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fisting, Derek In Heat, Fisting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Derek Hale, Omega Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 13:10:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5165012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has gone into heat, alone, with no supplies and no one to take care of him.  No one, that is, except Stiles, who Derek should have known would show up after he sent a text that clearly said <i>stay away.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Biology

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KuriKuri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuriKuri/gifts).



> 30 Thankful Days, Day 7: Gift for KuriKuri.

Derek whined when the loft door rolled open, trying to gather himself enough to shout at whoever had dared to come over after he’d _sent everyone he knew a text to stay away_. Unfortunately, another wave of cramping _need_ swamped him, leaving him writhing against his sheets, soaking them through while desperate, embarrassing noises filled the air. 

“Derek?” 

Jesus fuck, of course it was Stiles. Of fucking _course_ it was. A low growl built in Derek’s throat, ending in a whine of painful longing. 

“Okay, it’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you, dude.” A cool hand brushed across Derek’s forehead, and even with all the irritation he was feeling, he turned his face into the touch, needing _more_. “How long has this been going on?” 

Derek tried to force his eyes open, tried to get his mouth working properly to form words, but he was sunk too far into his heat for coherency. Thankfully, Stiles seemed to understand what he wasn’t saying, or maybe he simply could read the desperation in the way Derek’s body was twisting on the bed, because he shushed him quietly and said, “It’s okay now. I’m here. I’ll take care of you.” 

A little broken cough of disbelief made Stiles sit back, face falling into petulant lines. 

“Whatever, dude. I might be an omega too, but that just means I know what you’re going through. You, you gigantic moron, are going to kill yourself like this.” 

Derek closed his eyes again, too exhausted to keep them open and turned his back on Stiles. 

“When’s the last time you had something to eat? Drink? Pretty sure you can’t heal from death by dehydration, werewolf healing notwithstanding.” The bed moved under Derek as Stiles climbed off it, his voice getting further away the more he ranted at Derek. 

Was it wrong that Derek felt less desperate because Stiles was here calling him an idiot? Probably. It was an issue he’d address with himself when he was capable of stringing two complete thoughts together again. 

Something slapped lightly against Derek’s face then, and he pried his eyes back open, expecting to see Stiles there. Instead he spotted the corner of his fitted sheet, the elastic corner lying so close to his face that he growled at it, identifying it as the perpetrator of the entirely uncalled-for smack. 

“Are you… are you threatening your sheets? Are you _growling at an inanimate object?_ Oh my god, if I were a worse person, I’d totally take video of this.” The sheet was dragged away from him – probably for the best – and tucked back around the corner of the mattress. Due to Derek’s weight pulling against it, though, Stiles couldn’t get it all the way to the bottom and gave up when it was just held back, clinging to the corner. Which meant it’d probably only end up smacking Derek again. 

His life was so utterly depressing. 

“Okay, dude, sit up. Not… just… ugh, okay, I am not fighting you on this. You need to sit up and drink something. Look. I have grape juice! Here, boy!” 

Derek shot Stiles the most withering look he was capable of before rolling toward Stiles, curling around himself as another wave of heat swamped him. 

“Shit,” Stiles breathed, his hands fluttering in the air helplessly as his face shifted from assholish smirking to deep concern. “Okay, you need your… ” He jumped off the bed again, his movements so abrupt that the corner of the sheet _fwinged_ back again, though this time it just popped over Derek’s head, leaving him in a hazy sort of darkness. 

The sound of drawers opening and closing was merely the backdrop to Derek’s own desperate noises. Then there was a clatter and Stiles’ voice rising high and incredulous. “How the fuck do you not have a knotting dildo? Seriously, dude, do you _want_ to die?” 

Footsteps ran through the loft and Derek whined, shaking miserably as Stiles abandoned him. But then… then Stiles was back, and something _cold_ was pressing against him, smoothing over his skin. Prying his eyes open again, Derek saw that Stiles had a bowl of water and a washcloth, stroking it over Derek’s forehead and neck as he tried to bring Derek’s temperature down, temporarily easing the heat. 

Okay, so, it wasn’t the worst thing to happen, even if it felt like he was being frozen to death from the outside in. 

Shivering from cold instead of this miserable heat, Derek finally felt aware enough to sit up and make weak motions toward the glass of juice abandoned on his bedside table. Stiles lifted it, holding it up in front of Derek’s mouth and adjusting the straw – where the hell had he found a straw? 

When Derek made to hold the glass himself, Stiles scowled and slapped his hand away. “I’ve got this. You sit there and conserve your strength.” 

Capitulating – easily enough that he was aware in some part of himself that he would need to thank Stiles profusely at a later date – Derek sucked the straw between his lips and took great big, shuddering gulps of the juice. It was… _delicious_ , cooling him gradually from the inside out and relieving a bit of the exhaustion that had been swamping him. When the loud slurping sound of the last of the liquid being sucked out of the bottom of the glass filled the room, Derek collapsed back against his pillows. 

Correction: he collapsed back against the hard wall, knocking the back of his head painfully, because the pillows were scattered everywhere but where they belonged. 

Even _Stiles_ winced for him, though that was probably because Stiles was intimately familiar with the pain of knocking his head into walls. Literally and figuratively. 

Stiles scooted forward, following Derek up to the top of the bed, and went back to dragging the cool cloth over Derek’s skin. “How are you doing? Up to a bit of conversation yet?” 

Derek sighed at the prospect, but nodded, his voice croaky when he said, “What do you want?” 

“I want to know what your heat plan is. When I got your text, I thought… Well, I was imagining another Alpha pack had broken in and stabbed you with a pole again. ‘Stay away from the loft,’” he mimicked, voice as snarky as Derek had ever heard it. “Honestly, you’re lucky the entire pack didn’t descend.” Stiles rinsed the cloth, then wrung it out and smacked it back against Derek’s chest, a scowl accompanying the move so that Derek understood the force behind it had been intentional. 

“I didn't…” Derek stopped, tongue working in a mouth still too dry for much conversation. 

Stiles caught the move and stood up, hurrying into the kitchen to grab the entire bottle of juice. Pouring out more into the glass, he let Derek feed it to himself as he set the juice bottle down and went to rummage around in the refrigerator. “You have some oranges,” he called. “And cheese sticks? Do you think they’re still good?” 

Derek waited until he had drained his glass again before growling, “Yes, Stiles.” Honestly, he’d just been to the store last week. It wasn’t like he was _that_ much of a failure at adulthood. Then he thought of the Cocoa Puffs hidden away in the back of the pantry and scowled down at his empty glass. 

Stiles came back in, handing Derek a paper plate with cheese sticks on it while he wrestled the skin of the orange off. “So,” he grunted, pausing to lick up a dribble of juice when his thumb went through the skin and into pulp. “Heat plan?” 

“My heat doesn’t usually hit this early. I’ve always been pretty regularly January and July.” 

Nodding, Stiles started putting sections of of orange onto Derek’s plate, which Derek crammed into his mouth with the cheese. “Yeah, I’m May and November. But still dude, no knotting dildo? What were you gonna do, just sit here rolling around in your sheets until you strangled yourself on them?” 

Derek blinked and swallowed because he hadn’t really thought of anything. He’d just known he didn’t want anyone to see him like this. Vulnerable and weak. “I don’t know.” 

Stiles blew out a sharp breath, bouncing a little on the bed with the force of it. “Okay, that's… whatever. What do you need? What can I do for you?” 

Derek looked down at the bed, plucking at the rucked up sheets as he considered this. Stiles was irritating on a good day, but he was also pack. More than merely _pack_ ; he was trustworthy. He had proved time and again to be someone Derek could count on when all else was crumbling to dust around him. Derek peeked up at him, then raised his chin and really _looked_ at Stiles. 

He wasn’t a kid anymore, not that chubby-cheeked boy who’d thrashed his way into Derek’s life. He was solid and sturdy, still brash, but able to plow through the bullshit and take charge if needed. And Derek _needed_. 

“I’m trisexual,” Derek blurted, then rolled his eyes at himself when Stiles’ mouth dropped open in shock. “I mean, I don’t know how you–” 

“Me too,” Stiles nearly shouted, leaning forward and clapping a hand over Derek’s mouth, though he then looked at his own hand with an expression that said he was questioning his entire existence. “I mean. I’m more about the person than the biology, you know?” Slowly he eased his hand off Derek’s mouth, lips parting like he was going to apologize before he shut them firmly. 

Derek dipped his head in a nod, because he _did_ know. He couldn’t say that he didn’t crave an Alpha’s thick knot and aggressive musk two weeks out of the year, but he was equally drawn to the calming neutrality of Betas and the more exciting tang of Omegas. There was something about his own sex that turned his head, and he’d never been ashamed of that. 

Not when there were so many other reasons to hate himself. 

Taking the conversational bull by the horns, Stiles covered Derek’s restless hand with his own and squeezed. “Are you okay with me helping you?” 

Derek felt a flush crawl up his chest and spread across his cheeks, making the tips of his ears burn. “You’re here.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything. I have a phone; I could call Scott or Isaac or Lydia or… anyone else. I could–” 

“No! I want you.” Derek wanted to rip his own throat out for that too-honest response. 

“Okay, then.” Stiles sat back, studying Derek with that narrow-eyed focus he only got when there were monsters threatening the town. “I’m not fucking you.” 

Disappointment swelled Derek’s throat nearly closed and he dropped his chin to his chest, nodding uncomfortably. “Of course,” he choked out, pulling his knees up, shielding his body as best he could because– 

“You’re in heat,” Stiles said, his voice gentle but firm. “If, after all this… I mean, I’m totally down with that. I am down with _all of that_. I would date you so hard, oh my god. But I also know your ability to do things like make rational choices is pretty much in the toilet right now, so. I’m just gonna help you with this and then leave you alone until you tell me you don’t want me to leave you alone anymore. Because consent is important, and you can’t consent like this.” 

Derek stared at Stiles, his lips parted as he tried to take all that in. His surprise must have shown on his face because Stiles cursed under his breath, an angry flush making his cheeks splotchy and his eyes burn bright. Before he could go off on a vitriolic tangent – most likely about Derek’s past, which he really and truly did not want to hash out with his body feeling like his hormones were ramping up again – Derek rolled forward and pressed his face to the curve of Stiles’ neck, scenting him. 

“I trust you,” he murmured, skin growing steadily warmer as the fever flush of heat spread from his belly outward. “You’re the only one I want to–” Derek’s breath caught, a low sound breaking out of him. 

Stiles’ hand came up, fingers a little twitchy as they settled at the back of Derek’s neck, lightly stroking over the skin. It was obviously meant to be soothing, but instead it caused Derek to cat into the touch, rolling his head as he arched up into the drag of Stiles’ skin over his. He felt like he could feel every ridge of Stiles’ fingerprints as he dragged the pads of his fingers up Derek’s neck to spear into his hair, clutching at the strands and pulling gently until Derek was panting directly into Stiles’ face. 

“Jesus,” Stiles breathed, the flush in his cheeks spreading down his neck as his eyes darted between Derek’s. “Okay, we need to take care of you. I’m going to. Gonna take care of you, I promise. So get comfortable, dude. Just–” 

Stiles’ words cut off as Derek lurched forward, pressing their mouths awkwardly together. Though his hands curled around Derek’s shoulders, holding him in place, Stiles seemed content to let Derek take the lead with the kiss, remaining passive as Derek licked into his mouth, drawing Stiles’ tongue out to suck on it. 

“Want,” Derek mumbled, his words garbled. “Want.” 

Pulling back, Stiles nodded, a big, enthusiastic rocking of his head on his neck. It would have made Derek roll his eyes before, but now it just made him _preen_ , made him lay back, spread his legs wide and lift his hips off the bed, showing off his… everything. He wanted to be alluring, wanted to entice Stiles between his thighs, make him high with the scent of Derek’s _need_. He wanted Stiles to be as dizzy and overcome as he was. 

Stiles hummed, crawling around until he was between Derek’s thighs, smoothing his hands over the twitching muscle there. He swiped at Derek’s hole, not enough to provide even a moment of satisfaction, but enough to collect some of the slick that had been dripping out of him all day. Then he reached forward and wrapped his hand around Derek’s cock, grip tight and almost rough as he jerked Derek three times. 

Only three times, though, which made Derek snarl at him, teeth snapping in the air. 

“Shhh,” Stiles said, probably trying to be soothing, but missing by a mile. “I don’t want you to come yet, just needed to see how close you were. Okay, so I’m going to assume this is how you want to do this. If you need to move or anything, just… do what you want. I can adjust.” And then, apparently realizing Derek was beyond concepts like rational thinking, or even active listening, Stiles just shrugged used his thumbs to spread Derek’s ass cheeks. There was no more notice than that before he twisted one of his hands upside down and plunged two fingers as far into Derek as they could go. 

Derek yelled, a primitive, animalistic sound, as his ass shot off the bed, his hips arching hard against the press of Stiles’ fingers, trying to get him _deeper_. Grabbing at the sheets, he tried to use them as leverage, tugging and pulling as his hips hitched up, higher and higher, until almost all his body weight was on his shoulders and heels, his neck forced into an uncomfortable position. 

Stiles knelt up, free hand gripping Derek’s hip and leaning all his weight on it to press Derek back down to the bed even as he added another finger to Derek’s ass, then another again when that one was just swallowed up with no resistance. Four fingers deep, he moved his whole arm, twisting and turning it, scraping Derek’s insides until Derek was yowling his pleasure to the ceiling, writhing helplessly on the destroyed mattress. 

Then, because he was an asshole, Stiles pulled his hand back, scrambling backward when Derek jack-knifed off the bed, fangs dropping in his wrath. 

“Sorry, sorry, not stopping dude, just… Oh my god, don’t eat my face! Look, just– Argh.” Stiles ducked his head and lunged forward, tackling Derek to the bed and then twisting somehow until Derek was face down. 

Instinct kicking in, Derek curved his back, almost snapping his spine in his haste to thrust his ass into the air, to _present_ for Stiles. A low chuckle made his belly cramp, the sound filled with both lust and a vague undercurrent of awed disbelief. The fingers came back, no hesitation at all. Just speared into Derek, then… then there was something pressing at his rim. Something that made Stiles’ fingers go deeper. Knobs of bone scraped past Derek’s entrance – _knuckles_ , his lagging brain informed him – and then a cool, firm hand, wet with Derek’s slick, wrapped around Derek’s shaft, stroking him fast and rough, forcing him to the edge. 

Just when his back was tensing, when his stomach was going tight with the need to come, Stiles curled his fingers into a fist and _yanked_ backward, locking his fist inside Derek like a knot. Howling, Derek went tense all over, clamping down around Stiles’ wrist so hard he heard Stiles curse softly even as Derek came all over the sheets beneath him. 

Rolling them to the side, Stiles flexed his wrist back and forth, working his fist like a knot flexing through an Alpha’s orgasm even as he fitted his still-clothed body as close behind Derek as possible. Close enough for Derek to feel how hard he was. 

Maybe he’d be able to convince Stiles to do something with that. 

Stiles’ slick-sticky free hand wormed under Derek, then pressed to his chest, tugging him backward. He nipped at Derek’s shoulder with sharp teeth, like an Alpha worrying at their Omega. It was… perfect. 

“Have you done this before?” Derek wondered out loud, his voice rough, scratchy, shaking with the tremors that buzzed through him with every rotation of Stiles’ wrist. Something inside him shrivelled up a little at the thought, that Stiles had done this so often it was old hat. 

That Derek was just someone else to help through heat. 

“Hmm? No, just… I know what _I_ want, you know? When I’m stuck there with a silicone knot in my ass. I always want to feel someone surrounding me and holding me and… yeah. I just. I thought maybe– I mean, if you don’t want me to–” 

“Don’t stop,” Derek rushed to say as Stiles started to withdraw. He grabbed Stiles’ hand and pressed a kiss to his palm, nose wrinkling as he smelled himself but soldiering on regardless. “Stay.” 

“As long as you want me to, I’ll be here.” 

Derek sighed, eyes sliding closed as he let his body rest. He didn’t know how long Stiles would be able to keep his wrist tucked in close to Derek like that, and he wanted to take advantage of this opportunity to nap. 

“Stay,” he whispered, then slipped into sleep, trusting in the knowledge that Stiles would be there to take care of him when he woke. 

And hopefully, if he was lucky, even longer. 


End file.
